Gallery of Shattered Mirrors
by Fantasie in D Minor
Summary: What happens when you throw an unawares ninja into a perfectly planned Turk mission? Chaos, jailbreaks, and enough sarcastic remarks to last one very irritated Reno a life time…not that anyone’s counting.
1. Prelude to a Fatal Coincidence

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Gallery of Shattered Mirrors

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**Disclaimer: **_I do not, unfortunately, own Final Fantasy VII or any of its sequels/prequels. The horrendously irritating sarcasm is my own, however. _

**Summary: **_What happens when you throw an unawares ninja into a perfectly planned Turk mission? Chaos, jailbreaks, and enough sarcastic remarks to last one _very _irritated Reno a life time…not that anyone's counting. _

**Warnings: **_My usually horrendous spelling, and colorful language. If you're allergic to sarcasm, I do not suggest reading this XD _

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**Prelude to a Fatal Coincidence **

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Over dramatization serves no purpose when dealing with a _heartless_ individual such as Tifa. Yuffie begged, whined, feigned cardiac arrest, and even fake fainted due to—just as fake—internal bleeding, but all of her theatrics went, apparently, unnoticed, and the ninja still landed herself in the kitchen, with a headache, and a grievous stab to her pride.

Perhaps the fact that Yuffie attested to internal bleeding in her _elbow, _of all places, had something to do with Tifa's incredulousness, but when one takes into consideration the shinobi's claim of rising blood pressure and brain blackouts when next to a stove, it's highly debatable which lie snapped the older brunette's temper. Between these two fake—but rather entertaining—pieces of information, and Yuffie's voiced fear of being attacked by kitchen appliances, it's no wonder that Tifa felt it her duty to drag the protesting ninja into the aforementioned kitchen. After all, even the sweet—or evil, as Yuffie would have you believe---martial artist was somewhat sadistically inclined.

"I swear the oven won't bite."

Yuffie rolled her eyes at the soothing voice, with which Tifa was trying to mask her amusement.

"I'm not clinically insane, Tif," the ninja informed huffily, still struggling with the death grip around her arm. "And would you let go? You're cutting off my damn circulation!"

"Oh? But wouldn't that help stop the internal bleeding at your elbow?"

"You're aiding the wrong elbow."

Tifa let out a short laugh of amusement. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but three minutes ago, I believe, you were screaming about this one."

"Some friend you are," Yuffie accused indignantly, glaring at the back of Tifa's head. "I'm standing in front of you woman, quite possibly _dying, _and you don't even know which elbow will cause my demise!"

The ninja was quite aware that the allegation was ridiculous, but heck, if she started this charade, she'd be damned not to finish it. Not to mention the feint hope that if she annoyed the older woman enough, maybe—a very slim yet none zero probability—Tifa would let her off the hook.

"I'm sorry sweetie. I simply couldn't get past your alleged blackouts to pay attention to anything else."

Yuffie gasped in disbelief at the mocking comment. Since when was Tifa, of all the sentimental women on the face of this planet, allowed to be sarcastic?

"Have you been drinking arsenic lately?" The ninja stopped her futile struggle against the death grip, deciding offhandedly that chewing her own arm off was an option if all else failed.

"That's an over exaggeration," Tifa scoffed quietly. "A bottle of hydrochloric acid sufficed."

The martial artist ushered Yuffie into the kitchen—or Satan's playground, in the ninja's hail-all opinion—finally letting go of the younger girl's arm. The shinobi in question brought the abused appendage to her chest protectively, shooting Tifa an irritated look.

"Don't give me any bright ideas. You just might find such a bottle served with your next meal."

Tifa promptly ignored the comment.

"Come on, Yuff! Cid really needs out help. He's hopeless when it comes to cooking and such; you know that."

"Cid is hopeless, period," The ninja corrected, slouching into a nearby chair, observing, with quite the bit of amusement, as Tifa fished for her lost list of ingredients.

"Shera's going to be home in three hours. We need everything ready for the surprise party by then," Tifa continued, as if the inserted quip wasn't voiced. "Think we can do it?"

"_You _can! There's really no need for me."

"Oh but there is."

Yuffie groaned at the implication. If her duties for the evening involved cutting salads or anything of the sort, the poor ninja wouldn't make it out of the hellhole with all of her limbs in place…and attached.

"Right," The girl pronounced in a small voice, slouching further into her chair—if that was even humanly possible.

"Do me a favor?" Tifa grinned in a pleading manner, which only made Yuffie narrow her eyes at the forced innocence. "I'm missing a few things, as it would seem. Care to pick them up for me?"

Yuffie could have jumped for joy at the unexpected inquiry. Of all the horrendous things, such as actually preparing food, that Tifa could have asked...

'_Thank Leviathan!' _

"Of course!" The ninja flew out of her chair with a delighted grin and bounced over towards Tifa. The other quirked an eyebrow at the drastic change in disposition, but decided not to comment. Scouting out a pen, she scribbled a few quick things on the back of her newly-found list.

"I suggest the convenience store on 27th Street." Tifa handed over the paper, assuming a somewhat thoughtful expression. Was she forgetting something?

"Anything else I should know?" Yuffie threw over her shoulder, more for etiquette's sake than anything else, as she headed for the door.

"Oh, and make sure the ice tea is sweetened."

"Tif, please! You don't actually expect _me _to buy anything without sugar, right?"

"And don't take too long! I need those here in no more than an hour."

"Got it."

"And thanks!"

Yuffie, who was waiting patiently at the door for the rest of Tifa's instructions, took that as her queue to get a move on it. With a dismissive wave of her hand at the unnecessary thanks, she took off down the hall.

Tifa stood still for a moment. There was something else that she was simply forgetting to say. _'What else—ah…_that._' _

"Oh, and Yuff!"

"Yeah?"

"Cid isn't here to drive you."

"WHAT?!"

* * *

Reno's eyes narrowed in disgust as the young man began shaking his head emphatically in the oh-so-familiar 'heck no' manner.

"There's no way in all nine circles of Dante's Inferno," was the categorical exclamation accompanying the exaggerated movements. "Simply not gonna happen." Reeve's stern stare, however, did not waver, and Reno was forced to look for a more straight forward approach to illustrate the point of his earlier dramatics: "No!"

"No way in all nine circles of Dante's Inferno?" Elena quirked an amused eyebrow, barely concealing the sadistic pleasure she derived from the unfolding scene. As unbeneficial to one's health as making Reno do anything against his will was, the whole process was wonderfully amusing to watch from the sidelines.

The red-head did not, as was expected, grace such a rhetoric with any response.

"I don't see what you find so problematic." Reeve's tired voice drifted through the office, as the man broke his wannabe intimidating gaze and looked down at the plastic-wrapped uniform in his lap. "The whole process will take no longer than a half hour."

Reno snorted and slouched farther—if such was even achievable—into the armchair he was occupying. "Who is this sought-after individual, anyway?"

Reeve couldn't resist the inquisitive gaze that settled over his features at Reno's unexpected inquiry. _'At least we're making progress…' _The brunette thought warily. And, in fact, such was progress indeed; most certainly much more lenient than the original 'no way in all nine circles of Dante's Inferno.'

"Devon," Elena responded amusedly, ignoring the fact that the question required an explanation rather than a simple name

"How absolutely charming." Reno rolled his eyes in irritation. "Now that I have his name, perhaps you'd like to inform me of the guy's phone number, and send us on a date?"

"I didn't realize you…rolled that way." The slang sounded somewhat foreign off her lips, but the laughter in the phrase was not lost on anyone.

"There are lots of things you don't know, 'Laney." The red-head waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "My fondness for killing irritating blondes on the weekends, for the sheer fun of it, happens to be one of those things."

"Blond men, I assume?"

"No, blonde Femi Nazis." Reno grinned at Elena's rapidly bubbling annoyance.

"Chauvinist."

"Anti-Aryan chauvinist," Rude inserted, not bothering to lift his head from the file that he was diligently studying.

"Never aspired to be labeled as anything else." No words could possibly describe the Cheshire grin that settled over Reno's face when Elena simply huffed in response.

At this point, Reeve decided to cut in and interrupt the exchange before it went any farther. If long years of experience with these three amounted to anything, he didn't even want to _consider _hearing the rest of that conversation.

"The man deals weaponry." The president sighed lightly in relief as the ensuing argument fell into dead silence. Even Reno, surprisingly enough, deigned it somewhat necessary to snap to attention. Encouraged by the overall seriousness in which the office became consumed, Reeve continued. "Lately, however, as it would seem, he picked up on the habit of kidnapping government officials."

"For a hefty amount of ransom money, I assume?" Reno questioned lazily.

"Indeed." Reeve nodded in the affirmative, moving the plastic-wrapped uniform to rest on his desk, where the red-head had an easy time grabbing it.

"You said something about kidnapping government officials," Elena spoke out slowly, perhaps still trying to wrap her mind around the concept.

"Care to elaborate?" Reno's uninterested voice finished the inquiry for her.

"Neo ShinRa and Wutai agreed, as you may know, upon improving national interests with a free trade agreement, unbarred by tariffs and the likes. Perhaps the agreement is only a small step towards forgetting the conflicts of long past, it's most certainly an important one."

"Cut the propaganda Reeve," Reno interrupted cheekily. For if Reeve was left to his own devices, these pep talks—as Reno liked to refer to them—would be endless.

"As I was saying," the brunette glared at the Turk in a half-hearted fashion "the aforementioned agreement does not bode well for a weapons dealer. As the main manufacturer of artillery to both, ShinRa and Wutai, for a decent amount of time, the firm would suffer great losses if the conflict between the two was to be resolved."

"And the mutual trust for establishing trade almost guarantees that the said conflict _will, _in fact,be resolved," Elena filled in.

"And the kidnapped officials?" Rude inquired quietly.

"Official, to be more exact," Reeve corrected.

The Turks exchanged brief glances, Reno being the first to come to terms with his suspicion.

"Godo?"

"Unfortunately. His advisors received a ransom note this morning, no more than seven hours ago," The president informed dejectedly.

"And what about Yuffie?" Elena inquired curiously. Wasn't Yuffie, as the daughter and princess, supposed to receive the letter?

"In Midgar and blissfully ignorant at the moment. I'd prefer keeping it that way."

"And you want to get to Godo before the ransom is due," Reno stated flatly, as he fiddled with the plastic-wrapping around the uniform that he was more inclined to burn than wear.

"And that requires your cooperation." Reeve smirked at the 360 that the conversation just went. He only hoped that the exchange wouldn't go back to the ridiculous exclamations.

* * *

Calmly surveying his dimmed surroundings—though dimmed, by no means, was an accurate adjective to describe the lack of lighting—Reno decided that luck, apparently enough, was not on his side yet again. With only one broken streetlight to provide for the dark, ten-meter alley and not a soul within a twenty-meter radius, the Turk's bold action of simply _being _there could easily—and justifiably at that—be labeled as suicide.

For all his elaborate protesting, Reno certainly didn't get what he wanted. No bar, no liver-killing liquids, no attractive bartender. Oh, the horror!

"Remind me once again _why _I'm doing this?" Reno adjusted his ear piece, hearing a soft snort issue from Elena.

"Because you're getting paid."

"Say, Rude? Think that particular edition of irritating blonde comes with a mute button?"

As was expected, Rude did not reply, but Reno could hear a distinctively male voice chuckle on the other end of the transmission. Elena, however, didn't practice as much restraint with her vocal chords. Her tirade on 'improper treatment of such a wonderful young woman' rang loudly from the ear piece, which Reno was already holding in his hand rather than on his ear. It wasn't in his plans to loose a pair of eardrums that particular evening, thank you very much.

"Apparently not," was Rude's subtle way of cutting off the blonde.

With a smirk, Reno picked at his cable company uniform—rather obviously, Reeve was seriously lacking in creativity—satisfied with the defeated sigh off Elena's lips.

"We need to change your remote, 'Laney."

The blonde, understandably enough, didn't address that.

"I'm delighted you're having such a wonderful time tormenting me this evening, but there are still much more pressing matters to attend to."

"Such as?" It was safe to say that Reno was _not _lacking in sadistic tendencies.

"Such as going over what you're going to do yet again, in case you screw up and decide to get yourself killed."

"You're worried? How positively sweet of you!"

"Don't flatter yourself," Elena scoffed. "I'm afraid I'll loose my job over you."

"I never met a woman more charming than you."

"I try…"

"To displease?" Reno snorted. "You're doing a _very_ fine job of that."

"Weren't there mission details you were going to cover?" Rude, the ever sensible one, cut in promptly.

Reno's gaze instinctively traveled to the mansion not a block north from his current location. "Go in, search through 'private' papers, find the blueprint that Reeve is sure—god knows for what reason—is in the midst of those, 'fix' the television, and get the heck out," Reno recited flippantly. "Got everything down?"

"Don't forget to be polite. You're service personnel at the moment."

"Yeah, yeah, no bitching at the snobby shit. I know."

"Reno," Elena growled threateningly.

"Yes?" Innocence embodied, much?

"Get going."

With a quick flash of white teeth, Reno turned towards the roof Rude and Elena were perched on, for back-up, receiving a glower from one and a stony stare from the other.

"What got your knickers in a twist?"

Shouldering his equipment bag, Reno turned away, heading due north towards 27th Street. How many times has he done this? _'Too many.' _So there was no problem…right?

TBC…

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**A/N: **_I hope you've enjoyed this first chapter! Pardon the somewhat slow start, but as you can probably tell, everything is going to pick up next chapter XD Please tell me what you think! Love it, hate it, don't think it sounds interesting in the least? You get the point. Oh, please feel free to flame, and constructive criticism is more than welcome! Thank you yet again! _

_-Fantasie _


	2. Under Metal Rain

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**Gallery of Shattered Mirrors**

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**Disclaimer: **_I do not, unfortunately, own Final Fantasy VII or any of its sequels/prequels. The horrendously irritating sarcasm is my own, however. _

**Summary: **_What happens when you throw an unawares ninja into a perfectly planned Turk mission? Chaos, jailbreaks, and enough sarcastic remarks to last one _very _irritated Reno a life time…not that anyone's counting. _

**Warnings: **_My usually horrendous spelling, and colorful language. If you're allergic to sarcasm, I do not suggest reading this XD _

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**Under Metal Rain**

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Some things in life are just meant to be ignored. Tifa's selective memory is a perfect example, lest thinking too much on the matter for too long leads to homicidal urges. Then, of course, there are other things that one would vehemently hope to ignore, yet their insistence makes that impossible to accomplish. Yuffie's aching feet, for instance, are a nice illustration. And, certainly, no one can forget about those wonderful things that are ever so easy to remain in blissful ignorance of, but that are rather fatal under scrutiny. The footsteps that Yuffie kept hearing behind herself upon turning onto 27th Street—and kept writing off as her own overactive imagination, no less—provide a great depiction. 

Taking another wary glance over her shoulder for what seemed to be the hundredth time in a short stretch of a few minutes, Yuffie growled to herself upon not finding anything of interest once again. Paranoia was certainly not a term commonly associated with the young ninja, but it seemed to have started eating at her since the young woman turned onto 27th Street.

She slowed to a stop and took a deep breath to calm her pulsating heart. Call it Sixth Sense, but Yuffie could practically feel a presence behind her rigid back, and such was _not_ a comforting thought. The dim lighting and _conveniently _deserted surroundings most certainly did not effectively remedy the situation.

'_I'm being ridiculous,' _the ninja berated herself. _'Why would—' _

That's when she heard it again. That repetitive sound that was ever so soft, but definitely present: the tell-tale splash of a booted foot coming to contact with one of the numerous puddles decorating the broad sidewalk.

"And how, pray tell, may I assist you?"

In hindsight, such phrasing was not particularly beneficial to prolonging her short existence of 18 years, but arrogance was a gift (curse?) that the young ninja rather prided herself on possessing since birth, and her antics were not about to undergo any sudden—though rather wise, given the circumstance—transformation. In short, years of practiced flippancy couldn't be altered within a span of thirty seconds.

And the reaction to such mocking politeness, of course, was to be expected.

The short stretch of paved, puddle-decorated street became consumed in still silence. Hardly breathing, and unable to coax her body into any semblance of movement, Yuffie had no other option but to wait for any sign of action from behind her turned back. And the said action did, in fact, occur soon enough, to be sure.

It came in the subtle form of a dull glint off a closed store window, situated, conveniently enough, to Yuffie's immediate left. Perhaps it was a knife or a carefully polished silver gun, but in any case, Yuffie didn't find the notion of waiting around long enough to find out particularly appealing. Something inside the ninja's frozen mind was insistently screaming at her to _move. _Instinct was never a commodity the young woman prided herself on possessing; that evening, however, it seemed to reside on her side.

Assuming the guy's position to be directly behind her stiff back, Yuffie folded into a backward roll, kicking out when she felt her feet come to contact with the solid ground once again; and, to her tremendous luck, she did not miss. The shinobi's success, however, came with a mound of consequences, as such short-lived victories usually do, as the gun, which Yuffie found to be her pursuer's weapon of choice, went off accidentally, shattering the closed store window to the combatants' left—the same store window that alerted Yuffie to the presence of a weapon to begin with—casting pieces of broken glass onto the gray concrete of 27th Street.

The feint illumination of a few still functioning streetlights reflected off the scattered bits, consuming the accursed lane in a haunting glow.

The scenery was certainly not lacking in its appeal, however, Yuffie did not waste the time on regarding such petty details. She did, in fact, have more prominent things to worry about. Prominent things such as, for example, getting the gun that evaded the man's grasp mere moments ago…and with any luck, getting the said gun _before_ the guy could recover from his apparent surprise.

To the ninja's tremendous horror, however, she found out—just a tad too late—that unlike Sixth Sense, the laws of physics weren't as fond of her. And what better way to deal with the overactive ninja but to remind her, _subtly, _that she—like every other mortal on the face of this planet—was not exempt from that little thing called gravity.

And, indeed, she wasn't.

Tripping over a strangely angled block, which was protruding from the otherwise level surface of the paved street, Yuffie fell—for the lack of any bettereuphemism, unless counting 'flew towards the Earth with an acceleration of 9.8 meters per second squared.'—promptly yelping out all the _cordial blessings _that she learned from one Cid Highwind, as her slow descent progressed at the aforementioned acceleration. Actually _hitting_ the concrete only promoted more accusatory curses, as the ninja hissed at the solid ground beneath her.

Of course, the fact that Yuffie succeeded (had the tremendous misfortune?) of falling onto the shattered bits of glass rather than a clean part of the street—though clean, in Midgar, is a rather relative term, effectively meaning 'less littered'—only aggravated the ninja further, decorating her knees and hands in thin, bloody scratches.

Soon, however, such insignificant lacerations faded into the darkest reaches of Yuffie's mind, as the dark-haired girl registered a resounding 'click' behind her half-sprawled form. Apparently, her attacker wasn't as much of a dolt as she would have liked to believe. Cutting off the half-finished cursing fit, Yuffie regained her footing ever so slowly, wincing as one of her knees protested the movement.

"Turn around, girl."

The young ninja rolled her eyes at the command. _'Why that incompetent fool.' _With a huff of irritation and a self-reminder that he was, in fact, and incompetent fool with a _gun, _Yuffie swallowed her pride and followed the order. Facing the gun directly now, it became less difficult to hold back any smartass remarks that she might have harbored.

'_Out of all the shit that could have possibly happened…' _

Oh, yes. She was in for it, alright.

* * *

Reno made his reluctant, and consequently lethargic, way towards the designated house, watching the shadows from the overly large dwelling ominously hang over the path he was slowly covering. The more he considered his current assignment, the less sense it was making, and the slower he walked. There was a good reason why Rude always attested that Reno should never be granted time to reminisce or _very _bad things happen. 

And that evening was no exception.

How Reeve knew about a blueprint that outlined the location of Godo's detainment—and even more disturbingly how Reeve knew about the _whereabouts _of such a blueprint—evaded Reno's understanding. The red-head guessed, with little difficulty, that the information came in the form of a tip-off; but why the president of NeoShinRa accepted the tip, especially if it was anonymous—which Reno wasn't doubting even for a second—was beyond the Turk.

Reeve, sure enough, could not brag about much experience in the field of organized crime or dealing with it in a proper manner, but surely he wasn't _that _naïve. At least, Reno hoped like all hells the brunette wasn't. The president evaded the topic masterfully when being asked to name the source, but that only set Reno further on edge rather than calmed his nerves.

Stopping a few steps in front of Devon's residence, Reno sighed in burning frustration before grinning goofily at nothing in particular. _'So for all I know, I could be walking into a death trap at the moment... Perfect!' _

Oh, yes. He _did _have something to grin about.

Not particularly comfortable with such a pessimistic thought, the red-head blocked it out, setting his eyes on the mansion before him. It was overly huge with intricate architecture more common to upper Junon and compiled into more or less a square of white stones…_too_ white for the likes of a dark city such as Midgar. A soft light glowed dimply in the oppressing darkness of the street through the two front windows, seemingly marking the only house possessing anything remotely living within.

"Here goes…" Reno pronounced quietly, starting on his way up the front steps. Actually, he was fully intending to finish his ascend, however, such never happened.

"Reno!" He heard a very much alarmed Elena exclaim none too quietly—and none too considerately as far as his eardrums were concerned. "They're going to fire. Take cover!"

The red-head would have congratulated himself on the stellar logic of his brilliant—or moronic, as Elena would have you believe—mind, if only the warning didn't enact itself within a matter of short seconds.

Reno, thankfully, was able to take off down the street by that time, hearing the sickening crunch of bullets as they hit the concrete at his previously location.

Elena and Rude opened fire immediately, diverting the attention of the gunners to their whereabouts, allowing Reno the much-necessary leeway to make a run for the closest cover. The Turk, however, didn't turn any corners as the realization that he was too far out of reach due to the slight curve in the otherwise straight line of 27th Street dawned on him after having tripped over the curb and barreled into a rather _soft _wall.

A soft wall that yelped at the impact and began struggling wildly under his weight the moment gravity brought the two down.

Apparently, for all his death-defying stunts of past years, Reno couldn't convince the laws of physics to like him much either.

"Get off me!"

Receiving a shock of familiarity, Reno tried rolling off the struggling supposed wall beneath him, but as another, male voice broke into his train of thought—accompanied by a safety clicking off, no less—he was forced to freeze, as was the obviously female figure beneath him.

"Now shut yer traps and get up. Slowly."

The red-head sighed shooting an irritated glare at a short character with a silver gun standing a few feet in front of the duo on the ground. Taking a second to appraise the shaking hands of the man up front, Reno glowered at his lack of luck. On top of everything else, he was being held up by a moron, who's only advantage was the gun that was already _out, _as opposed to Reno's own weapon hidden deep within the confines of his equipment bag.

The thought of perhaps disregarding the order on the whim that this individual wouldn't shoot crossed the Turk's mind, but was quickly scratched out. He did _not _find the option of getting shot particularly appealing.

Not appealing, that is, until he recognized the other person who had the misfortune of being stuck on the receiving end of the pointed weapon along with him.

With an exaggerated sigh and an overdramatic throw of his head back, he pronounced slowly, glaring at the sky, "What have I ever done to you?"

Of course, Yuffie, who, turned out to be his immediate company, could have thought of a few _sweet _and to-the-point ways of addressing the inquiry, and, indeed, she didn't hesitate to proceed with just that.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe can't forget about that time or hundred where you committed that little thing called 'homicide'?"

It should be understood that Yuffie and tact, or more accurately, Yuffie _implementing _tact was a ridiculous event to ever consider the transpiration of. Of course, that conviction is not without a solid base, as Reno found out the hard way.

"And I think I'm about to add another instance to those 'hundred times,'" he mimicked, shooting her an irritated glance.

Yuffie looked as if she was going to address the quip, but froze before any intelligible sounds left her lips—of course, that doesn't mean her mime impression was lacking in clips of whispers that couldn't possibly be identified as words.

Reno watched in silent horror as her hazel eyes shot back behind him, before returning to his own aquamarine ones. Her lips stretched slightly, formulating one word:

"Hell."

Rather amusing she should mention that wonderful place. Because guess what broke loose?

TBC…

* * *

**A/N: **_I'm overjoyed that you enjoyed the first chapter! I was somewhat insecure as to how entertaining it was, but if you guys liked it, the thing's not all that bad XD Pardon the long gap that I took before updating. I had a trip to England in the middle of it all and the catching-up I had to do for school wasn't all that welcoming. But I'm back! Feel free to scream at me, but I do beg for forgiveness! _

_-Fantasie _

**Clara: **_We've already talked about this, but I just want to thank you again XD I'm very much glad you enjoyed it, and hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. _

**SkaraClayne: **_I'm very much happy you enjoyed it. And yeah, sarcasm is one wonderful thing XD_

**Sienna03: **_Thanks for the feedback, I hope you liked this chapter as well! And yeah, sheepish grin my exchanges tend to be loaded with sarcasm. XD_


	3. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

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**Gallery of Shattered Mirrors**

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**Disclaimer: **_I do not, unfortunately, own Final Fantasy VII or any of its sequels/prequels. The horrendously irritating sarcasm is my own, however. _

**Summary: **_What happens when you throw an unawares ninja into a perfectly planned Turk mission? Chaos, jailbreaks, and enough sarcastic remarks to last one _very _irritated Reno a life time…not that anyone's counting. _

**Warnings: **_My usually horrendous spelling, and colorful language. If you're allergic to sarcasm, I do not suggest reading this XD _

* * *

**Between a Rock and a Hard Place**

* * *

Cockroach-like resilience be damned, he wasn't getting out of this unscathed. The mere thought of leaving with no wounds to show off was wishful thinking to begin with, but now? Now the notion was flat out laughable. 

Pointed guns and scowling, homicidal individuals were all in good humor up to a point, but this? The humor, needless to say, was somewhat lost on the poor red-head.

Indeed, the situation became a hell of a lot less amusing when instead of another cocked gun, Reno's keen hearing was assaulted with the thunderous approach of a rolling object upon the uneven concrete. In the deafening silence, the sound most certainly stuck out like a soar thumb; then again, by the looks of it, aforementioned anger management boy up front rather plainly missed it.

Yuffie, however, did not. And thankfully, as the Turk would later find, so.

The next few moment Reno would rather never remember, and considering his abundance of unfortunate experiences, that's saying something. Running through every idea of what could possibly be 'rolling' towards him, the Turk's mind stilled abruptly when Yuffie, _promptly, _supplied the answer:

"Hand grenade," she mouthed.

And what does a hand grenade do? Oh…right…it goes 'BOOM.'

And this one, unfortunately, wasn't inclined to deviate from the rule.

Death defying stunts were all well and good when the Turk could enjoy the company of quite the large arsenal of useful weaponry and materia, but seeing as everything useful was hidden out of reach in the equipment bag, and the only company he had the tremendous_ pleasure_ of enjoying was Yuffie's, things weren't looking up. And the hand grenade…shouldn't he do something about that?

It registered that perhaps he _really_ should.

That's when his eyes, thankfully, landed on a trail of shattered glass shards that led to the broken store window that he neglected to notice up to that point. Shoving the frozen ninja towards it as well as blatantly disregarding the warning shouts of Yuffie's original pursuer, he flung himself through the busted glass not a moment sooner than the much anticipated hell broke lose…and not before anger management boy fired off a shot.

Indeed, the silent strip of 27th Street flared to life…rather literally flared. Enveloping the narrow avenue in vibrant hues of reds and yellows, the flames beat at the dark stone buildings relentlessly in hopes of burning down the structures. Thankfully, however, this wasn't London of 1666, and despite the efforts, the fire failed to actually spread.

The man, whose name the duo of unlikely comrades never had the pleasure of finding out, was lost within the roaring flames and lost to the obituaries as the ordeal would masterfully be kept under wraps. Perhaps only the silver gun, lying forgotten next to its unintentionally cremated owner would actually remember the guy ever existed…the silver gun which, for record's sake, hit the mark, as Reno would find when he regained consciousness.

* * *

Someone was shaking him. 

"Turkey!"

Someone was shaking him _insistently. _

"Get your lazy ass up!"

And he was _not _enjoying such treatment.

"_Now_!"

Not one bloody bit.

"If you don't open your eyes this instant, I will abandon you with a sign on your ass reading 'FREE FUCK!'"

Reno groaned.

"Leave my ass out of this."

A snort issued from above his head.

"Fine with me, but I don't think _he _will be as understanding."

'_He?' _

Reno's jumbled thoughts came to an abrupt halt..._ 'Shit!' _

As certain as the red-head was that the homicidal character with the silver gun was no longer among the living, the owner of the hand grenade most probably still was. And that piece of information wasn't all that calming.

It also effectively meant that it was in Reno's best interests to move.

The logic behind the implication was, indeed, stellar, but the Turk found a few problems with actually complying. First off, his muscles protested. Second, he was assaulted by dizziness and nausea. And third, the red, liquid substance on his hands wasn't so easy to ignore. Indeed, a cursory glance to his left thigh would prove that the blood was, in fact, his.

Perhaps it had something to do with the hiss of pain the effort to move elicited from the Turk, but Yuffie seemed to become aware of this _petty _little detail about the same time.

"You've been shot?" she inquired, though hardly did this question sound remotely like an actual query.

"I wonder what gave that away," was the snappish reply. Reno prompted to place his burning cheek back onto the cold floor of the shop, relishing in the freezing sensation it provided on his hot skin.

Yuffie, on the other hand, wasn't as compliant in leaving the discussion be.

"Idiot! Get yourself up!" she screeched in his ear _purposefully. _

"And what if I can't stand? Are you planning on lugging me around, brat?"

"Only to the morgue, Turkey. I'll do you the favor," she countered irritably.

And here, for perhaps the second time that night, Reno realized that Yuffie and Murphy's Law were inseparable. Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, they take a turn that way.

The tattletale sound of glass shards crunching underfoot came from outside the broken window, attesting to the fact that perhaps the night wasn't over just yet.

"How sweet," Reno whispered sarcastically. "He's checking if we're alright."

Yuffie had other ideas as to what he was checking for, and it surely wasn't their well-being. She looked about herself frantically, spotting a backdoor built into the south wall of the store. The ninja started pulling on Reno's sleeve the moment she saw it.

"Come on," she growled. "There's a way out of here."

Reno, for his part, managed to pull his body together enough to push off the ground, but that was about it. Hot pain shot through his leg, flowing up like lava through the rest of his abused body. Yuffie had no other choice but to place his hand over her shoulder and support a good portion of the red-head's weight.

Hobbling through the door proved to be a bothersome chore, as Yuffie tried maneuvering the red-head through without aggravating his leg further. The ever increasing sound of approaching footsteps, of course, didn't help matters any.

Yuffie did, however, manage to note offhandedly that this seemed to be the convenient store Tifa was referring to upon issuing her list of missing ingredients. And as luck would have it, it was closed for the night. Indeed, that made Yuffie feel ever so much better. If she wasn't caught in this particular predicament, she would have to face Tifa's wrath for not buying those few necessities the woman mentioned…and who knows which one is worse: the maniac or Tifa.

Descending the stairs proved to be even more problematic. Reno, surprisingly enough, kept his balance well enough, while Yuffie managed to trip over his, as well as her own, feet…_twice._ Needless to say, Reno wasn't going to let that slide; but, he had enough sense to wait until they were out of ear shot and _well _out of harm's way.

Not that such was going to happen any time soon.

Making it to the bottom of the stairs with minimal damage was only the beginning. Indeed, prying the door at the bottom of those hellish stairs open was an impossibility unless a gun was involved. And sure enough, where there was Reno, there was always a gun.

Congratulating himself on finally remembering the whereabouts of his concealed weapon, he began zealously ripping open the top portion of his uniform. Yuffie responded by almost dropping him to the ground, scowling at the triumphant smirk he shot her upon retrieving a mid-sized gun from the strap that was bound tightly around his waist. Unfortunately, the bag with other such useful tidbits was left outside where he had the lack of mind to drop it.

"You're not actually going to use it," Yuffie stated sedately, eyeing the weapon with a disbelieving look.

"Of course not, I just have it out for the perks of holding it." He rolled his eyes, pushing off the girl and taking aim at the door.

"But he'll hear us," she hissed back.

Too late. Reno pulled the trigger.

Needless to say, she was going to rip out every last strand of that rust-colored hair the Turk so prided himself on. The thought, admittedly, was rather innocent compared to what she decided upon when rushed footsteps assaulted her hearing yet again, running the length of the shop upstairs. Ah, yes, quartering sounded good, indeed.

Yuffie kicked in the door, allowing the three inches of metal that barred their escape to slam violently against the inside wall. Grabbing Reno by the scuff of his shirt, no matter the yelping that he was trying so hard to sedate, she ran through as a barrage of bullets rained upon the two from behind.

To top it all off, the guy had a semi-automatic. _'Just my luck,' _Yuffie thought humorlessly.

Fortunately enough, or unfortunately—depending on how you look at it—the level ground at their feet gave way to a sharp slope, hiding a cursing Turk and an irritated ninja from the onslaught almost immediately after they entered the adjoining hall; however, the fact that they both _tumbled _down it, made the short-lived victory that much less pleasant. And, of course, one can't very well remain in blissful ignorance of the fact that at the foot of the aforementioned slope was an unhealthy amount of dirty water, which the duo so gracefully fell into.

And then, the _real _fun started.

Obviously, the shady individual with the semi-automatic was much quicker to descend the stairs than the two reluctant comrades, but Reno's mind, thankfully, was quicker. Realizing with a cursory glance that their current location held an innumerable amount of pipes—water pipes, to be exactly—Reno drew his gun yet again. Pulling a dazed Yuffie along further from the door, he began firing off at random intervals, relishing in the cool sprays of water that shot from the fractured, metallic tubes.

Yuffie wasn't all that happy about this turn in events, but pushed through her initial displeasure at the wet clothes and took to supporting the red-head's weight yet again. It became evident to her why exactly such actions were necessary as she heard a few distant shots ring through the wide hall; it was evident that they were fired at random, for the two hobbling figures were obscured by the white foam of flowing water.

"So you have a brain after all," she complimented condescendingly, disregarding the warning glower the Turk sent her way in response. And so perhaps she missed Shera's surprise festivities, but she managed to escape a maniac _and_ skive off kitchen duties all in the course of one evening. Life simply couldn't get any better.

But it could certainly take a turn for the worst…_again. _

* * *

A pair of glowing, cerulean eyes narrowed in agitation. A stream of polluted water was effectively blocking the picture which they so desperately sought to see, and there was nothing left to do but for the hand to comply with the most logical move: lower the gun. Indeed, there was nothing he could do except hope that the elaborate maze of passages wouldn't free their breathing bodies. 

Flipping open a black PHS and running his hands through a memorized sequence of ten numbers provided a tone on the other end of the line, echoing from the miniscule speaker.

"They got away," he whispered, voice rasp from evident years of smoking and heavy alcohol consumption.

"Decidedly unpleasant," was the mild response. "It seems relocating Godo should prove beneficial, after all. I assume you are fit for the responsibility?"

"Yes, sir."

A snap of the phone's lid followed the assured statement.

"This will be entertaining."

TBC…

* * *

**A/N: **_I would like to apologize profusely for the long wait! This chapter has been half-written for the past month, and I didn't have the time to finish the bloody thing! Certainly, now that I have passed the finals (shoo la la and all the good stuff), I will have much more time. Please expect updates in intervals of no longer than two weeks XD I'm getting back to it, I promise!_

_-Fantasie _

**Faith Lee**_-ducks into the nearest trashcan- I KNOW how cliffhangers can suck, and I'm dreadfully sorry for dragging out this update so long! I was going to post almost immediately following the last chapter, but alas, it didn't work that way. Hopefully, this sedated your curiosity! XD And thank you for the review!_

**Violet: **_Sarcasm is the essence of life ;)_ _Sorry for the not-so prompt update…but it's here, ne? Thanks for the feedback!_

**Fusion Defiance**_And there you go! Hopefully, this wasn't a disappointment XD Thank you for the encouragement. _

**Ms Andromeda Black**_Thank you for the kind words XD And no…you can't really have internal bleeding your elbow, as far as I know :) _

**Ealinesse**_How about I make you a deal…since I updated, you do the same, ne? XD Otherwise, I'm glad you're enjoying this piece!_


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